


The Starting Point For The Highlight Of Our Life

by yellow-fish (guardiansofthefantasy)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baz typical swearing, Fluff, M/M, POV First Person, Sort Of, T for swearing, i guess it can be canon compliant, i think there's a bit of swearing in this, just baz penny simon dynamics, moving in, this is pretty soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardiansofthefantasy/pseuds/yellow-fish
Summary: Two weeks after moving in, Penny and Simon have finally unpacked all their boxes. They celebrate a little with Baz.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39
Collections: Golden Days: a Simon Snow Series zine





	The Starting Point For The Highlight Of Our Life

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this about a year or so ago for the [Golden Days: A Carry On/Wayward Son Zine](https://twitter.com/GoldenDaysZine) and finally decided to post it,, here you go!

**Simon**

“Guys, I know  _ just _ what we have to do!” Penny exclaims excitedly. I look up at her from the floor, where I’m surrounded by empty and half-folded packing boxes. 

Baz doesn’t even react. He’s reading something on his phone, as he does so often, and I’m not even sure he heard Penny. 

“We should throw a little moving-in party,” she goes on, totally unaffected by his lack of attention. 

I’m pretty sure that moving-in parties are usually thrown in the first night after moving in. We have been living in our little flat for two weeks now, and today is the first day that we have actually managed to unpack all of the boxes. 

Baz has been in and out over the course of our moving in and unpacking. Sometimes he’d show up with coffee and tea in the morning or afternoon, sometimes he’d just come by in the evening after whatever he’s done all day ( _ “Preparing myself for school,” _ he’d say, in a tone that implies I have never prepared myself for anything—which is probably true), just to say hi and hold my hand for a few hours. 

He shows up unannounced all the time, and it pisses Penny off. (Not enough for her to throw him out, thank Merlin.)

Not that I’d let her throw him out—this is my place too. I do have a say in whether or not my boyfriend gets to stay. 

“We could invite Agatha,” I suggest and move a few boxes out of my way. Baz snorts, but at least I know he’s been paying attention now. 

“She ignores my messages,” Penny tells me. She doesn’t seem to be upset about it, although she doesn’t sound happy either. 

“Oh,” I say. To show her that I understood what that means—Agatha’s not coming. 

“Plus,” Penny goes on anyway, “she’s in America. There isn’t really anyone we could invite…”

“Your family.” I shrug, not quite sure why I suggested it. It would be incredibly awkward to celebrate anything with Penny’s family. (Mainly because they’re all a little weird around me, and because I’m generally not great with huge celebrations. Not if I can choose.) 

“Snow,” Baz warns. “What’s the problem with it just being the three of us? It has always worked out well so far, hasn’t it?”

Which is true. We’re not really a family, but they’re my best friend and boyfriend, which pretty much makes them the closest thing to a family I have. And who knows? Maybe one day, when I’ve learned more about what family means, I’ll know if they are mine.

"Yeah, fine," I say. "You're right." 

Because of course he is. Baz has mostly been right so far. The tosser.

"Just the three of us," Penny nods, leaning back. "Just sitting together with tea and snacks and being happy that there are barely any boxes left."

"There are no more boxes," I point out as I fold another one. These are empty. They're all empty and most are folded as thin as I could manage. It almost looks like home now. 

It will take a while until it feels like home, after Watford, but with Penny and Baz here, I hope it won't be a long while.

"You have decorated a lot," Baz says absently, but I'm delighted that he speaks. He's been awfully quiet concerning the flat so far. 

"Yes." I can't help but feel proud of it. Because it took a bit, and I spent most of my days decorating and making everything feel as much as home as I could. It was sort of therapeutic in a way and very distracting from all the thoughts that are cluttering my mind.

I didn't want to clutter the flat too much, too. (Maybe I did, accidentally, but without this much decor it would have felt empty and lifeless.)

"It's … a lot." He mentioned it before, but I pretend he didn't and shrug.

"At least it's not Gothic."

"Victorian," he corrects, and I grin. 

"Mhh. Same thing."

"It's a lot of decors," he says again. 

"Yes, I'm aware," I chuckle. I suppose I understand what he's getting at. It's too much for him. I'm not surprised—but I  _ am _ amused.

I look at him and I catch him watching me. It's still a weird feeling. Sometimes I have to remind myself that he's doing it because he thinks I'm pretty and not because he thinks about punching me in the face or drinking my blood. 

Now, I just grin. It's kind of a nice feeling that he still likes to look at me. That he isn't bored of it after he's looked at me for so many years. 

A part of me feels giddy about it—it's a great feeling to be wanted. And loved.

"Snow," he says, a little annoyed. I'm still grinning. 

"Yes?"

"Lean over." I do, curious, and he pats my hair. "Good boy."

I huff and manage to punch his arm, but he leans down and kisses me. It's effectively shutting up all of my protests. I shift closer again and almost hit him in the face with the edge of my wing. 

He laughs and pushes my wing back, then wraps his hand around the nape of my neck.

This time I kiss him before he can kiss me.

There's a quiet protest from Penny, but I ignore it for the moment. If it really annoyed her, she would say so. Plus, I deserve this after all the hard work I put into the furnishing and decorating of this flat. 

We kiss and stare into each other's eyes for longer than I can count. Then, my stomach grumbles and Baz cocks an eyebrow at me. 

"Is that more important than me?"

"Yeah." I smirk and when I lean in for another kiss, he pulls back. 

"Really? Perhaps you should pay attention to that, then."

_ "Perhaps  _ you're right." I roll my eyes but sit back on my heels. "Does anyone else want a scone?" 

I get up and take a few boxes. (We store them in the little hallway for now.) 

Baz watches me again, a little amusement on his face.

I don't get a reply, but I suppose it's answer enough. So I head to the kitchen and drop the folded boxes in the hallway. 

When I return to the living room with my plate, Penny is reading her book again and Baz is looking back at his phone. (What is he even doing on there all the time? I guess I could ask, but then, do I even want to know? I'm not very familiar with that sort of technology, and I don't want him to mock me about it right now.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Baz**

“We should throw a few plates onto the ground,” Bunce suggests.

“What?” Simon stops massacring his scone, finally, and looks at her puzzled. “Why would we do that?”

“That's a horrible idea, Bunce.”

“It seems appropriate for a housewarming party,” she shrugs and throws Baz a pointed look. “You don't have to come.”

“Hey, you're not uninviting my boyfriend,” Simon protests and jabs his fork at her, threatening. 

Boyfriend? He did have some time to consider it, supposedly. It's been a while since we first kissed, and although Simon had asked me to be his boyfriend, it still feels weird to think about what it really means.

That we’re possibly going to marry one day. 

If Snow wanted it.

Would I even be able to call him Snow anymore, then? If I couldn't, I’m not so sure if I even want to marry him. 

Which is kind of a joke, of course. I would want to marry Snow, that’s for sure. Even if I can’t really imagine either of us taking the other’s last name. (Is that a requirement to get married?) 

“It’s supposed to be good luck! And against evil spirits!” Bunce argues. 

“Pretty sure it’s a wedding tradition,” I say. (I say it normally. Snow would probably be offended by my tone, but I do  _ not _ sneer.)

“I think it sounds fun,” Snow cuts in—of course he does. It’s about destroying something. Sure it’s fun. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather use the plates for eating?” I just can’t help teasing him about it. He had never seemed to mind, but now that we’re… boyfriends, I figure I can let it count as romantic teasing. Flirting, if you will.

“That’s… actually a very good point,” Snow says thoughtfully. Trust him not to think providently.

“You don’t say.” I only say it to annoy him—it still works surprisingly well. He throws me a glance, then rolls his eyes (a habit he’s undoubtedly picked up from me). 

Bunce gets up and picks up some of the folded boxes. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting—”

“That’s not flirting,” Snow protests.

“It very well is,” I say, smirking a little when he stares at me dumbfounded. 

“I suggest some tea and snacks and we have a nice evening,” Bunce continues, as if we didn’t just interrupt her. Honestly, that girl has no fear. (I respect her, although I would never admit it, of course.) 

“We could walk around the flat,” Snow adds, grinning a bit now. “Show you what it looks like and all.” He’s talking to me and I nod a little. 

“If you wish.”

“Cool.” Snow gets up, too and collects the leftover boxes. “Just stay where you are, the party can begin in a bit.” 

I obey—it’s a nice thing to lie around while others do the work. (I’m not lazy. I just enjoy a bit of relaxing, and Snow didn’t really give me a choice here.)

  
  


We walk around their little flat, so I can appreciate it in all its glory. No more packed boxes standing around, and I pretend I haven’t seen it before, although I have. (This is not the first time I’ve been here, and not too much has changed since the last time. The furniture has been in its place from the very beginning, and the most notable difference is the fact that all the boxes are gone and the shelves are no longer empty or sparsely decorated.)

Speaking of the decor—some of it is really… Snow. Or Bunce. I’m not sure who of them is responsible for it, but it’s not really sophisticated. Or magical. Or mysterious. Just… Normal. (Both normal and Normal-normal.)

“What _ is _ this?” I pick up one of the decor items that I can’t quite figure out and turn it around in my hand. It seems fragile and resistant at the same time, perhaps as it’s made from some sort of tin or metal material. It’s colored hideously and I can’t detect any use for it, but Snow is at my side instantly and grins. 

“That’s a wind-up carousel.”

“A what?” I frown at him, and he takes the little metal thing out of my hands. 

“A carousel,” he explains and puts it down on the table. “That you can wind up like this—” He shows me how it’s supposed to work and when he lets go, the carousel spins around itself. I lean away from it, as to not be hit by one of the little figurines. 

“And what is it for?”

“Decor. It’s a Normal Christmas decor.” Snow grins at me and I shake my head a little.

“So it’s not only hideous but also useless.”

“Well, you’re not the one living here.” Snow puts it back onto the shelf. 

I sneer. “Obviously. If I was, this place would be decorated way more stylishly.”

“Hush,” Bunce says and pushes a cup of tea into my hands. I wonder if it’s to distract me from all the other questionable design choices in their flat. “Today’s for relaxing and being happy about everything finally having its place.”

“So you don’t intend to get rid of this?” I ask innocently.

“No, why should we?” Snow shrugs, then takes a sip of his tea and burns his tongue. He takes a few sharp breaths and grimaces. (It’s a little adorable.)

“Because it’s Christmas decor.”

“It doesn’t _ look  _ like it, does it?” Snow replies proudly and puts his tea down on the table. 

“Just making sure,” I mutter, but they’re correct. This is not my decision to make—although if I had a say in this, I would have never let this thing into my flat. (It truly is horrendous.) 

  
  
  


I settle down on the couch again, which is probably my favourite spot in their flat, and take the glass Snow is handing me. 

Snow sits down to my left and watches the bubbles in his champagne. I don't see what's so fascinating about it.

Bunce returns from the kitchen with a plate of biscuits and scones and raises her glass.

"To a furnished flat."

"Furnished and decorated," Snow adds and I roll my eyes a bit.

"I wouldn't call it decorated."

"Not the time for criticism." 

"Noted." 

I grin and raise my glass. "To a new beginning."

"To a new beginning," they echo and we all take a sip. 

I grimace despite myself, I've never been a huge fan of this kind of drink. I do prefer old-fashioned tea.

Snow seems to like it though, as he empties his glass with a second sip.

Bunce sits down in front of their little coffee table and shoves the snacks in the middle. "Time for some snacks and chatter."

Snow smiles excitedly, like a puppy, and his wings perk up at it. It's disgustingly sweet. I wish it didn't have that effect on me.

He reaches out immediately and takes a few biscuits.

  
  
  


I catch Snow standing out on their balcony when I return to the living room from my trip to the bathroom.

The wind is gently ruffling through his curls, and they look incredibly soft. He has his wings wrapped around himself, although I'm not sure if he's doing it consciously. 

I slowly step outside to him and stand by his side, looking at the other houses. It's not the prettiest sight, but it still feels amazing to stand out here. It's a bit like we're actually adults now.

His tail is twitching, a nervous habit he has no control over, the black spade hitting my hand. 

I catch it the next time it's at my hand and he flinches and looks at me.

"Baz—" 

There's something about the way he says it, if it hadn't been for my vampire hearing, I wouldn't have caught it. 

His voice is quiet and soft, an unbelieving tone cutting into it. As if he isn't sure whether I'm real or not.

"Snow." I give him a nod, without smiling, although it takes me some self-control. More than it should have. I'm getting soft and it's his fault.

He turns to me fully now and his eyes glance over my face and body. They pause at my hand that's still holding his tail, and I let go. 

Snow's tail twitches back to the ground, and I watch it, fascinated. (I'm oddly attracted to that stupid tail. I would be delighted if he had given himself horns as well. Maybe it's because this feels like we're both monsters. We match.)

"Do you think everything will stay alright?" he asks, looking back out to the houses. 

"Why shouldn't it?"

"Everything just… seems to be too good." His wings lift up above his head and then hang down, exaggerating the deep sigh. (Fascinating.)

“Snow. Snow, look at me.” I gently put my hand on Snow's cheek and turn his face to me. “Stop worrying. The future is upon us. And it's going to be great. This is only the beginning of all things good.”

Snow smiles a bit, but his tail is twitching again. “You think so?”

“Yes. This is the starting point for the highlight of our life. Our golden twenties.”

“Neither of us is twenty yet,” Snow argues, a grin spreading on his face. 

“You are insufferable.”

“Seems like we got that in common.”

I smile, a little amused, and lean down the bit of height I have on him (he almost rolls his eyes as I make a show out of it), then I press my lips against Snow's. 

It feels great, just like every kiss with him does. I don’t think I’ll ever get bored of kissing him. I would kiss him until the end of the world, to show him how much I love him. Maybe to make up for the years of bullying (failed flirting—I was young and stupid). 

His lips taste like peppermint tea and sour cherry scones, and his hands are warm on my waist. I sigh a little and he smiles against my mouth. It almost feels like he's mocking me for enjoying it as much as I do. (Idiot.)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/heamptyart)


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